


Tea Break

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Tea, a moment of respite, honestly not sure what else to tag this as, spoilers for episode 170
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: SPOILERS FOR MAG 170!!!After the Lonely, Martin makes tea.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 41
Kudos: 281





	Tea Break

You would think that an avatar of an all-powerful fear god, whose very purpose in life was to draw on the fears of the people around him, to observe and record every instance of their sharp and gnawing terror, would not, himself, be able to feel fear.

You would think that his own terrors would be subsumed under the overarching miasma of the world outside, to such an extent that it no longer held any meaning.

The fear that Jon felt upon looking back and finding nothing behind himself but mist would shatter those theories beyond all repair.

He holds Martin close, now, their hands clutched together, leaning into each other as they make their way across that lone and foggy moorland.

They haven't spoken much since finding each other in that empty house. There isn't much for Jon to say: Martin knows how much he loves him. Whatever other doubts the Lonely tried to sow in his mind, Jon cannot help him work through them unless Martin chooses to tell him what they are. He will not pry, not about something like this.

Martin tugs him to a halt as they are passing a small and gnarled tree. He lifts one hand up, running his fingers along a small branch, before snapping it off with a brittle  _ crack! _ and holding it out to Jon.

"Think this'll burn?"

His voice is still laced with tears. It is, unfortunately, a tone Jon has had ample opportunity to learn.

He takes the branch, wondering for a second how he's supposed to figure that out before the knowledge hits him.

"Yes, it'll burn," he says. "The tree's been dead for a while. You want to make a fire?"

Martin nods. "I'd like to make tea, if it's safe to stop here."

"It is," Jon confirms, even though the fog still winds around their ankles. "But... tea?"

"Yeah, I found some back at the cabin, remember? Under the sink." He drops Jon's hand - slowly, reluctantly - and starts breaking more branches off the tree, piling them on the ground. Jon crouches down to clear a patch of grass, and begins stacking them to build a fire.

"Oh, right," he says. "I forgot you had that. Do we, uh, have something to steep it in?"

"Yeah, I found some tin mugs. They should work to heat the water."

He wipes his hands on his trousers, dusting off the clinging scraps of bark, and takes off his pack so he can rummage around in it.

Once the branches are stacked properly Jon digs out his lighter, clicking it a few times before the flame catches and carefully setting the kindling Martin had gathered alight. He hadn't known the proper way to build a campfire before Martin had mentioned it, but he doesn't feel too guilty about using the Beholding in this instance.

Martin sits beside him, and they watch as the fire slowly grows, bleeding life and color into the grey landscape around them.

"Why now?" Jon asks after a bit.

"Sorry?"

"The tea. You've had it this whole time. Why now?"

Martin shrugs, eyes fixed on the flames. "I'm just trying to remember myself, I think," he says, and Jon puts an arm around his shoulders and doesn't say anything at all.

It's not good tea: dusty and dry from years of sitting under the sink unused, and they don't have sugar or milk to cut the taste. But it is tea, and Jon watches the tension bleed out of Martin's shoulders as he goes through the familiar rhythm of pouring the water and adding the leaves. Their fingers brush as Martin passes him a mug, and Jon offers him a small, fond smile.

"Thank you, Martin."

Martin just nods, and sits down next to him once more.

After a while of staring out into the fog and sipping his tea, Jon sighs.

"I walk too fast."

Martin makes a startled, coughing noise. Jon thinks he's inhaled some tea. "Excuse me?" he says.

"I walk too fast," he continues, undeterred. "And I don't check behind me often enough, I just...  _ assume  _ you'll be there. So if you're ever  _ not,  _ I don't know until it's far too late."

Martin huffs, nudging Jon's shoulder with his own. "This wasn't your fault, Jon."

"Wasn't it?" Jon says. He's still staring out into the fog, eyes distant and guilt curling through his stomach. "I... I lost you."

"I lost  _ myself,"  _ Martin says firmly, then shakes his head. "No. That place  _ took  _ me. You can't blame yourself just because you've got longer legs than me."

Jon looks at him. Martin stares back, eyes bright and clear of the awful haze Jon has come to associate with his falls into the Lonely. He looks confident, and brave, and Jon loves him so much he thinks he will never be able to tell him properly.

He brushes a hand over Martin's face, softly caressing his cheek, and sighs again. "Be that as it may. It's still an issue we need to solve."

"I'm not arguing that," Martin says, and reaches up to clasp his hand. He holds him there for a minute, close and warm, before a mischievous look enters his eyes. "I could put you on one of those child leashes."

Jon lurches back, the moment broken.  _ "What?" _

"Well, I do have rope." Martin grins. "I could fix you up a harness, make sure you don't wander too far..."

Jon splutters incoherently, and Martin laughs.

"Joking, joking," he says, then pauses. "Mostly."

Jon rolls his eyes. "We'll call that plan B," he says dryly, and Martin laughs again.

There's a lull. Jon grabs a spare twig and pokes at the fire, stirring a few sparks from the burning branches. Martin takes another sip of tea.

"Maybe I  _ should  _ just let you know stuff about me," he finally says, voice heavy with resignation.

Jon shakes his head immediately. "No."

"Sorry?" Martin blinks at him. He sounds surprised.

"We're not sacrificing your privacy just because it's the simplest route to safety," Jon says, softening his voice. "We'll find another way."

Martin is quiet for a moment.

"Thank you, Jon," he says.

Jon shrugs. "Of course."

"We... we should probably still keep it in mind, though."

"I won't-"

"No, I mean..." Martin huffs a quick breath. "Physical information. Knowing where I _ am,  _ especially when we're in one of these places, isn't exactly a major invasion of privacy. Just so long as you're not reading my mind."

Jon stares at him for a second. "...We'll see," he says eventually.

Martin nods. "Plan C."

"Plan B, I'd hope," Jon says, grimacing. "I'm not exactly keen on the child leash."

Martin laughs, hard enough that Jon worries for a second about his tea. But he places the mug to the side to avoid spillage, then snags Jon's and does the same. It only slightly prepares him for being grabbed by the lapels and drawn into a kiss, but it's warning enough that he's able to respond in kind without startling too bad.

"Plan B, fine," Martin says, whispering it against his lips. "And I won't tell the others about plan C when we catch up to them."

"Much appreciated," Jon whispers back. He closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against Martin's and taking a moment to savor his presence. He is deeply relieved to have the Lonely behind them, but still shaken by what it almost cost.

He meant it, when he said he would understand Martin wanting to stay in the house. Understanding doesn't mean it wouldn't have hurt, though.

Martin kisses him again, and Jon places a hand on the back of his neck, keeping him close.

"Thank you," he whispers, and when Martin makes a questioning sound he just shakes his head. "Thank you," he repeats, "for being you."

He can feel Martin's smile. "There's no one else I'd rather be."

Eventually they finish their tea, and Martin re-packs their backs with the remaining leaves and the mugs. Jon puts out the fire, scattering the ashes and stomping out the last few glimmering embers.

Then he reaches out a hand to Martin. "Temporary solution?" he suggests.

Martin takes it. "Are you saying we should hold hands through the entire apocalypse?"

"It's worth a shot. Besides," Jon grins. "It's better than plans B and C."

"You've got a point, there," Martin concedes. "Alright, then. But you have to go my pace, I'm not speed walking for you."

"I think I can manage that." Jon swings their hands between them for a moment, then lifts them to place a kiss on the back of Martin's. "Ready to go when you are."

Martin smiles. "Lead the way."


End file.
